


give me a reason to live

by Selatiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, But I actually love Ron, Charlie Weasley is in here because I said so, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Draco Malfoy Tutors Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Draco Malfoy is Very Sad, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Flashbacks, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Has Trauma, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Mixed Harry Potter, No Smut because I can't write it, Past Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley Bashing, Ron isn't even in this, Slow Burn, Suicidal Draco Malfoy, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Theodore Nott is Fed Up, there's a happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selatiss/pseuds/Selatiss
Summary: After hating him for 7 years, Draco returns to Hogwarts and tries to face his feelings for the so-called chosen one when they both return for 8th year. Draco is determined to avoid him, to just get through the year without much trouble. Of course Potter decided to fuck it all up.-“I like not taking it seriously,” Pansy offered her hand to him, and Draco was reminded of Potter and his cold stare in the train all those years ago.But it was his choice this time. He leaned over to grab her hand. She grasped it firmly, as if it were something anchoring her down. Maybe, to her, it was. “To not taking it seriously,” He said, shaking it.-
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. let's burn that mark when we get to it

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, and I in no way, shape, or form, support J.K Rowling's disgusting views. That being said, I hope you all enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright we're starting off pretty simple. It's slow burn, so they're not going to interact for like five chapters.

Of all the things Draco Malfoy wanted to do with his life, going back to Hogwarts was not one of them. But Potter just had to speak at his trial, he _had_ to defend him and now here he is. Sitting on the train, wishing to be anywhere else but here. He had said goodbye to his mother hours ago, at the manor. She wasn’t allowed to leave, so Draco had made the loney trip to King’s Cross station by himself. A thousand different emotions had flooded through him as he stepped onto the train for what was hopefully the last time. Regret sank deep in his stomach, embedded with guilt. He pushed it away, and looked for the nearest empty compartment.

_“Probation. 5 years. No apparition, no magic outside the school of Hogwarts. Your education must be completed, and you must forfeit your wand outside the grounds of Hogwarts.”_

A small price to pay. If he hadn’t agreed, he would have ended up in Azkaban with his father. Fuck the Ministry of Magic and their ‘merciful’ rules. Draco suspected that the only reason they didn’t condemn him immediately was because they wanted to wait for a moment to humiliate him further. They probably didn’t even expect him to make it past December. If that was the case, it wouldn't surprise him. He wasn’t sure anything could, at this point. At least fucking Potter wouldn’t be going back. He probably thinks he knows everything about being a wizard now. Typical. Draco finally found an empty car and sat down near the window, placing his bag down at his feet.

The whistle of the train blew, and the engine hummed as it began to move. The sounds were comforting at this point, and Draco took in the familiar sights as the train moved across the countryside. He looked up as the door to his compartment slid open, but it was only Pansy. She shut the door behind her and sat next to Draco, no words spoken between them. Her brown eyes were fixed on her hands. Her eyes were dark and rich, and Draco could tell that there something was hidden beneath them.

She had changed since the last time he saw her, about three months ago. At their trials. Her hair was cut back into a bob like third year, but it was choppy. Almost as if she had done it herself. Black bangs framed her face nicely. Her pug nose had sharpened out, and her face lost some of its roundness. The war had taken its toll on everyone, but Pansy had bore the brunt of it. There were bags under her eyes, and it looked like she had tried hiding them with make-up. She was twisting her Slytherin ring around with one hand.

“You’re really wearing that?” Draco asked, looking at the ring snaking around her finger. He had taken his off ages ago. He didn’t want his father’s ghost following him.

Pansy shrugged. “I see no reason to take it off,” Her voice was curt, but she spoke firmly.

Draco looked down at his own hands. He had replaced the ring with gloves, a gift from his mother. Draco appreciated the sentiment. The black gloves were missing the tips of their fingers, most likely a fashion statement. They were useless in terms of weather, but they did well to hide the deep purple bruises blooming on his knuckles, so he kept them on. It’s not like anyone had to know about them- or cared enough to ask.

The train door opened again, and then both Blaise and Theo were sitting across from them. They were already wearing their school robes, and Theo smiled weakly at Draco. Blaise turned towards the window, his shoulders hunched. It’s not like they needed to talk, they had known each other for years and had been through hell together. The weight of the year to come settled around them like a thick cloud. It was going to be awful, but as long as they kept their heads low and didn’t talk, they could get through it. Draco leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The train’s gentle movement was calming, and he still had a few hours before he needed to face the rest of the school. At least here, sitting in the silence of his friends, he was safe.

-

_"Is it true?” Eleven year old Draco had asked, excitement bursting through him. He had to be careful not to show it. He didn’t want to seem too eager. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?” Harry Potter seemed a little less impressive in real life, but looks are known to be deceiving. Crabbe and Goyle had been with him, they were the only other kids that he knew, and that was just because of his father. They were a bit thick, but all in all they weren’t horrid company._

_“Yes,” Potter had said. His glasses looked far too big for his face, and the bridge of them were repaired with tape. It was a wonder they hadn’t already fallen off. Draco was one spell away from fixing them, but he figured it might be a bit too forward. They would have plenty of time for that later. Potter was looking at Crabbe, a flicker of fear in his eyes._

_Draco was surprised. Surely the boy who lived wasn’t scared of him? Crabbe was very dumbwitted, Draco doubted he could even perform a spell yet. “Oh, this is Crabbe and that’s Goyle,” He said, hoping to put Potter’s mind at ease. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”_

_The redhead next to Potter had sniggered, poorly disguising his laugh into a cough. Draco felt hot red anger flare up. “Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father’s told me all the Weasley’s have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford,” Draco nodded to himself and turned back to Potter. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there,” He stuck out his hand, already planning out the letter he would write to his father. He would be so proud._

_But Potter’s open expression had been replaced by one of ice, and he had made no move to shake Draco’s outstretched hand. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” His tone was clipped, and Draco could see the Weasley’s face light up._

_Draco’s stomach had dropped, the imaginary letter in his mind bursting into flames. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry. He forced it down, and told himself that Potter didn’t even deserve to be friends with him. His mother was a mudblood, afterall, which made Potter a mudblood. But it didn’t make the rejection hurt any less._

-

Draco’s eyes snapped open and he was thrust back into the present. His arm was on fire. The Dark Mark on his arm was _burning_ and Draco took deep breaths to stay calm. He forced himself to think logically, before panic overtook him. The mark only burned when Voldemort was calling him, but he was dead. All the active death eaters were in hiding, and wouldn’t risk that much attention. They also wouldn’t waste time trying to figure out how to get all the inactive marks to respond to themselves. So who the _fuck_ set it off? Draco cast a cooling charm, wishing it would overtake his entire arm. The pain lessened, but it still stung. He looked around, realizing that he was alone in the compartment. The others had left without him.

The train had already stopped, and Draco looked out the window. They had already arrived at Hogwarts. Hopefully it hadn’t been too long. He pulled on his robes and rubbed his Dark Mark one more time before draping the long sleeves over it. He cast the cooling charm again, wondering if it were possible to alter it. If he could summon ice and freeze it over, he wouldn’t be able to feel it. He grabbed his bag and scribbled a note in one of his books. His fingerless gloves stopped at the wrist bone, hiding the inflamed skin on his arm case his sleeve rode up.

Draco took one look at the compartment, wishing he could stay longer. Even if it were only for a few more minutes. He took a deep breath, summoned up his courage, and left the compartment, shutting the door behind him. The train was still buzzing with students grabbing their bags, so it didn’t seem like he was too late. His arm had stopped burning, and he wondered if there was anyone he could talk to about it. Probably not, anyone who knew something worthwhile about Dark Marks were either in Azkaban or dead. He tucked his thumb under the strap of his school bag and left the train. His wandering eyes found Pansy, Blaise, and Theo waiting for him at the gate.

“Fucking finally!” Pansy exclaimed when she saw him. “What took you so long?” Blaise and Theo paused their conversation to stare at him.

Draco tried not to scowl. “I was fucking sleeping. You guys were there, why didn’t you wake me up?” The burning of his Dark Mark flicked across his mind and he wondered if he should mention it. He decided against it. There was no need to worry them.

“Mate,” Theo said. “We _tried_. You sleep like a basilisk-.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Blaise interrupted, looking annoyed.

“-We figured you would catch up so we decided to wait, and here you are. So let’s go. We even saved a carriage” Theo finished with a glare at Blaise. He boarded it, and they all followed. “And it does too make sense, basilisks sleep until someone wakes them up, right?”

Blaise sat down next to Theo, leaving the last seats for Pansy and Draco. “I mean, I guess so,” He frowned. “But still there’s no point in saying it if you need to explain it afterwards.”

Theo didn’t look bothered. “If it works, it works.”

Pansy sighed. “Who do you guys think the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be? Snape is…. No longer available and you would have to fucking crazy to take the position by now.”

Draco rubbed his arm at the thought of Snape. “Fuck if I know. Whoever it is, it can’t be worse than Lockhart, right?”

“Or Lupin,” Theo offered. “He was interesting but he couldn’t teach for shit. We spent ages in the library trying to understand what the fuck he was talking about.”

“Merlin forbid it’s a Gryffindor again,” Blaise groaned, rolling his eyes. “They try way too hard to be funny. Their jokes are always dreadful.”

“Dreadful?” Pansy teased. “Who even says that anymore? Looks like you’re trying too hard to be classy.”

Draco actually snickered at this, and Theo was cackling. “Whoever it is,” Draco said, “I hope they won’t fucking attack us this year. We’ve had way too many of those, and they always have it out for Potter.”

“Speaking on Potter, do you guys think he’ll come back this year?” Blaise asked. The carriage was nearing the school, and Draco grabbed his bag in preparation.

“Fuck no,” Pansy scoffed. “At least, I hope the fuck not. We don’t need his rodent face watching us the whole year. It’s bad enough that we need to write these ‘weekly letters’ to the Ministry as part of our probation.” She made finger quotes with her hands. “Do you think I can tell my owl to drop off my letter at the last moment just to piss them off? I want to know the best way to give them a big ‘fuck you’ without actually saying it.”

Blaise laughed. “What’s the point of even doing it if we can’t piss off a ministry official or two?”

“Oh yeah, if you want to get thrown in Azkaban,” Theo took a balled up piece of paper from his pocket and proceeded to throw it at Blaise, who immediately ducked. “The dementors can give you a nice kiss.”

Pansy snickered. “Aw, that’s so romantic Theo! Your first kiss with a dementor, you’ll have to tell the rest of us all about it.”

Theo frowned. “I’ve kissed before, you know.”

“Of course you have!” Draco agreed, a smile lighting his face for the first time. Theo looked up, hope in his eyes. “But snogging Umbridge in the broom closet doesn’t count.”

Theo groaned, and Draco felt warmth flicker through him. Maybe this year won’t be as bad as it seems. With Potter gone and the entire school avoiding them, they might be able to make it through well enough.

-

Of course he’s wrong. Of course Draco Malfoy is fucking wrong. Because nothing could ever go his way, could it? You know who strode through the doors of Defense Against the Dark Arts? Fucking Potter. Harry fucking Potter. Things could not get any worse.

Potter was looking around the classroom, his books tucked neatly under one arm. Merlin, could he be? No- is Potter the new professor? McGonagall would not be opposed to hiring him early. Draco wouldn't even be surprised. They could pull Snape out of the grave to teach and Draco wouldn’t even bat an eye at this point. Pansy looked at Potter curiously from the seat beside Draco. She was as interested in Potter as Draco. But all Potter did was look around until he saw Granger, then make his way across the room to sit next to her.

Why would Potter come back? There’s no fucking point to it. Potter could get any job he wanted, all he needed to do was ask. Weasley didn’t even bother to show up this year, but for once, Draco didn’t blame him. Losing a brother is traumatic, and even Draco knows better than to say anything about it. He leaned forward and tapped Blaise on the shoulder. Blaise turned, a quill in his hand. “What?”

“Where’s the professor?” Draco whispered, and Theo looked up from his place next to Blaise.

“Do I look like fucking Granger to you?” Blaise retorted, swatting Draco with his quill. He turned back to Theo, their heads close together as they discussed something.

Pansy rolled her eyes. She looked at Draco. “New professors always love attention, be patient. The later they are, the grander the entrance. I’m sure they’ll show up soon,” She put her head in her arms. “I’m taking a nap.”

Draco eyed his next target. He weighed the pros and cons of talking to him before his curiosity finally won out. “Potter,” He whispered. Potter was sitting one row in front of him, to the left. The bastard didn’t even turn around to look at him. “Potter!” Draco whispered again, this time slightly louder.

Potter jumped, apparently just realizing someone wanted to have a fucking conversation with him. He turned back, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked at Draco. “Yes?”

“Do you know who the new professor is?” Draco felt like a first year girl, whispering secrets across the tables. He tried not to look at Potter’s eyes.

Potter’s glasses gleamed. “He wanted to make an entrance.”

Draco wanted to slap him. Fucking Potter and his fucking riddles. Why the fuck couldn’t he tell him? It's not difficult at all. “You’re an idiot, Potter,” Draco straightened in his seat, not bothering to continue talking to him. Potter shrugged, looking back at Granger to finish their conversation. Draco decided to start on his weekly essay to the Ministry. The week might not be over yet but there’s no reason as to why he couldn’t get it done and bullshit his way through. It’s not like the Ministry would know. Pansy began to snore next to him.

Just then, the door to the class opened with a loud _bang!_ Pansy opened her eyes and sat up, wiping drool off the side of her cheek. The class immediately stopped talking, and all eyes turned to the man who had walked in. Draco tried not to sneer as he spotted bright red hair. There’s no way this class would be taught by a fucking _Weasley._ He squinted, trying to decide if it was a Weasley. There were no defining features, and he didn’t look like any of the Weasleys Draco had already met. But then again, all Weasleys did look the same. It was a wonder their mother could tell them all apart.

He had no scars on his face, just freckles, and he wasn’t wearing glasses. His was built pretty well, with muscled arms lined with large burns and startling intense blue-gray eyes. His pants were made of dragonhide and the collar of his tucked white shirt was popped. He had hair sticking every which way as if it had been scorched. He was squinting, as if his weather-beaten face was permanently scrunched from the sun. His hands, looking calloused and rough, were holding a thick stack of books.

Draco did remember the youngest Weasley mentioning something about having a brother in Romania, but this couldn’t be him. There's no way. “Hi, Hello class,” The redhead said, placing his books on the desk. The fronts of the books were covered with dragons. “My name is Charlie Weasley, some of you may have heard of me? It seems that I’m one of the only magical adults in Europe that hasn’t taught Defense Against the Dark Arts,” He grinned. “I agreed to take the position, as my job has made me have a lot of strange encounters."

The entire class was silent, but a few Gryffindors looked happy. Granger looked skeptical, but she still scribbled down notes as fast her quill would go. Draco’s eye twitched. He tried not to vomit as Weasley continued. “I have the curriculum for the entire year planned out….” Draco immediately lost interest and started writing in his textbooks. If Weasley’s appearance was any indicator, they would be learning about dragons. Shocker.

Weasley droned on about what they would be learning, and Pansy quietly groaned. “Fucking Gryffindors,” She pulled out her notebook, and as she took notes, it looked like she was actually paying attention. Her hair kept falling in her face, and she finally pulled it back into a tiny bun. “This year is fucked for sure,” She muttered, and for once, Draco agreed with her.

Of course Potter is fucking elated, Draco thought as he eyed the Gryffindor. He probably wouldn’t even have to try this year. Being the chosen one has its perks, of course. Weasley would most likely grade him a perfect score without ever reading his paper. Draco fiddled with his gloves, offhandedly wondering if the Weasley knew Granger was snogging his brother. It didn't seem like it.

Draco felt like he had checked the time about twenty times during class. Weasley would not shut up, Draco was pretty sure sure he’d mentioned dragons in every sentence. Hopefully they would be studying them from a _classroom_ perspective, not in person. He can’t imagine it would be fun getting scorched, and it would ruin his complexion.

Finally the clock tower rang, the low chime echoing throughout the class. Draco was already out of his seat and packing up his stuff, while Pansy moved much slower. “Thank Merlin we’re done with that class,” Draco said, giving a quick wave to Blaise and Theo as they left. He looked at Pansy, who had started walking to the door. He followed her.

“What class do we have next?” Pansy asked as they continued down the hall.

“It’s a free period,” Draco answered, checking his schedule. Blaise and Theo were way down the hall, rounding the corner. Knowing them, they were off to the cafeteria. “What do you want to do?”

“Crowley, Draco, I don’t know. Complain about how McGonagall hired a fucking Weasley for a teacher?” Pansy scoffed, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “What is he even going to teach us?”

Draco sighed. “Does it even fucking matter? He does seem the most educated out of them though, certainly more than Weaselbee. Which is good news for us.” They started descending the many stairs to the dungeons.

Pansy started to smile. “In truth, it doesn’t look like he’s too awful. It could be worse, and we already know pretty much everything about defense against the dark arts. This year will be more review than anything. The only thing I’ve never done research on is dragons, but I plan to get started as soon as I can,”

“Hoping to beat Granger?” Draco asked, a smile on his lips.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Do you know what you’re doing for your essay?”

“The what?” Draco asked, nearly tripping down the stairs.

“The essay. That Weasley assigned us. Like ten minutes ago. Were you seriously not paying attention? For someone near the top of your year you’re not very smart,” Pansy laughed.

“Just because I excel at written work doesn’t mean I pay attention, _Pansy_.” Draco sulked. “Tell me what it’s about already.”

“The topic is ‘What is worth living for,’” She said as they arrived at the Slytherin common room door. “I guess it’s supposed to keep your spirits high and make you not want to jump off the astronomy tower. It’s supposed to be like a thousand words. I think it’s stupid. But it’s not due until the end of the year, so that’s something,” Pansy started digging in her bag. “Weasley kept asking what our reasons for living were. You’d think that kind of stuff would be personal, but I guess not,” She scowled. “I know I wrote the password down somewhere.”

“ _Unus pro omnibus_ ,” Draco glanced at Pansy. “Latin for ‘one for all.’ They’re really trying to promote unity this year, huh?” The door swung open with a faint hiss, and the two Slytherins ducked inside. “No wonder, I’m surprised they even let Slytherins come back. And they repaired all the damage remarkably fast, even with magic.”

“They’re letting us back here so that they can keep an eye on us. We’re on probation, remember? We’re only here because the ministry doesn’t want us to rise up and overthrow them,” Pansy sighed, looking pointedly at Draco.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty,” He admitted as he flopped down on a couch. “I love seeing full grown adults piss their pants when a teenager points a wand at them. It’s the only thing that brings me joy,” A few first years glanced over at him alarmingly, but Draco waved them off. “Relax, I’m reformed. Mostly.”

The common room was remarkably empty. There were a few first and second years in one corner, and a couple of third years were scattered throughout. It seemed that the older students were taking advantage of the free period. Draco figured they were going to the Great Hall for a late breakfast or heading to the library to get ahead on their studies. Pansy took a seat at a polished black table, setting her bag on the ground. “I’m planning on not talking to Potter this entire year,” Draco said, making up his mind.

“You talked to him this morning,” Pansy pointed out.

“Starting now! You didn’t let me finish my sentence. I’m planning on not talking to Potter this entire year _starting now_. Goddammit, Pansy.” Draco crowed from the couch. Pansy huffed and pulled a book out of her bag, flipping it open. Draco sighed loudly. “With my luck, Potter’s going to follow me around this year anyways. He’s always convinced that I’m plotting something.”

“At least you don’t have Granger up your ass,” Pansy muttered, thumbing through her book. “She was looking at me the _entire_ period. And we were sitting behind her! Potter’s oblivious and a little stupid, so you can avoid him with no problem. But Granger does her fucking research, if she wants to catch me she will. I’m not going to get any rest if she thinks I’m up to something. Which I’m not, I’m trying to fucking graduate.” She glared at Draco. “You lucky bastard. You should be grateful Potter’s the one obsessed with you.”

Draco leaned over the back of the couch, sitting up and craning his neck to look at Pansy’s book. “What are you reading?”

“What do you think? Fucking dragons. Charlie Weasley is going to be shoving them down our throats, I’m going to be ready. And I'll show off a little, too, make Granger think I’m smarter than her,” Pansy sighed wistfully. “There’s nothing more fulfilling than making a Gryffindor mad.”

Draco nodded in agreement. They tend to turn as red as their Quidditch uniforms. Potter’s entire complexion turned a shade darker when he was mad, all the way up to his ears. It was interesting, so Draco would always keep poking him until he snapped. It always seemed like a good idea at the time, but at night, when it was him alone in his bed, he always wondered what it would be like to be Potter's friend. To be the one to reassure him, instead of being the one making fun of him and his friends. Draco laid back down on the couch, deep in thought as he enjoyed the gentle chatter of the younger students.

“What the fuck is wrong with us?” Pansy said suddenly, snatching Draco’s attention away from his thoughts. “Why are we in such a good mood? Especially you, Draco. You should be miserable, fuck, _I_ should be miserable, but no. We’re acting completely normal,” She looked at him, her eyes like broken shards of glass. “Are we okay?”

Draco looked down at his gloves, thinking of the bruises hidden beneath them. Memories of his fists slamming into his stone bedroom wall appeared in his mind, punching the wall over and over again until his fingers were broken and bleeding and tears were running down his face. Wishing that he couldn’t feel the agony of emotions stirring through him. He liked his pain better when it was visible. When it looked real. He cleared his throat, matching Pansy’s shattered gaze.

“The way I see it, we could spend our time being miserable and indulging in the past, or we could move on and fake it. Pretend to be okay for McGonagall, for the Ministry, for fucking Potter and get through with it. This year’s going to go by a lot faster if we don’t take it seriously. And then we can fuck off to America or someplace remote and never even have to think about the wizarding world,” Draco’s calm facade faltered for a second. He knew that this act he put up around others would come crashing down when he was alone. But for the time being, he could pretend. He could pretend to be okay and whole, when in reality his wounds ran deep. But it was fine, because you could fake what wasn't visible.

“I could buy a cottage in the muggle world somewhere,” Pansy’s expression was tender. “I could grow my own vegetables,” She looked over at Draco, tears welling in her eyes. “I like not taking it seriously,” Pansy offered her hand to him, and Draco was reminded of Potter in the train all those years ago.

But it was his choice this time. He leaned over to grab her hand. She grasped it firmly, as if it were something anchoring her down. Maybe, to her, it was. “To not taking it seriously,” He said, shaking it. Her nails were painted black. “Merlin, this would be better with some firewhiskey.”

Pansy laughed and let go of his hand, and their connection was broken. The moment was gone. She turned back to her book, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. Draco closed his eyes, listening to the soft scratching sound Pansy’s quill made on her paper. For the time being, he was home. The air was cool against his face. He was content to sit like this forever, without a care in the world. Then the clock tower rang, and Pansy was grabbing his hand. “We’re gonna be late for herbology.”

-

_Dear Ministry, or whomever the fuck I’m writing to,_

_You know what? Fuck you guys. I can’t believe I’m being forced to write a weekly essay on Merlin knows what. Am I supposed to reassure you that I’m not evil and still living? Because I am. And I’m pissed that they hired a Weasley for a professor, but at this point I don’t care all that much. Tell me the truth, did you hire him just to fuck with us? Wait, no. You know what? I’ve decided that it doesn’t even matter. I promised someone that I wouldn’t take this year seriously, and I plan to keep that promise. I’ll do my work, I’ll study, and I’ll do my damn best to pass. I’m not even going to bully- bother Potter. I’m planning on avoiding him, in truth. There’s too much history between us. It’s a funny little relationship we have, isn’t it? Potter and I. There’s far too much bad blood between us, and I don’t think we could have ever been friends, even in year one. I wonder how different our lives would be if we had indeed become friends._

_I’m so glad I’m not going back to this wretched school alone, though I’d never tell the other Slytherins that. I thank Merlin and Morgana I wasn’t the only one to be forced to go back. You may be wondering, dear ministry worker, why I’m telling you all this. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I know you won’t reply. It’s nice, having someone to vent to. I know you’ll listen, and you can’t judge me. There's no way you're able to contact me, and I'm okay with that. I won’t ever know what you think of me. There’s something reassuring about that, as fucked up as it may be. Do you know anything about Dark Marks? Perhaps you could send me a book about them, given that you and I are so close, ministry worker that I don’t know the name of. There isn’t any books about Dark Marks in the library, even in the restricted section. I checked. But I guess I’ll check again, it’s not like there’s anything else to do here. I suppose I’m not allowed to look in the restricted section. That makes you think, though, because if we’re not allowed to look in the restricted section, why is it even there? It seems like a bad design to me. Do you think I could find anything about Dark Marks at Hogsmeade? I know I’m not allowed to leave school grounds without an escort, and I’m sure no teacher wants to even look at me. Potter might bring me. If I beg enough. But he hates me, so there’s no point in asking. Is this enough written? It seems I’ve run out of words to say._

_D. Malfoy_

_P.s. I take back my ‘fuck you,’ random ministry worker that was assigned my case. It’s not your fault they’re making you read my letters. You probably have to write a report on my report, don’t you? I don’t actually hate you. But only you, specifically. Everyone else at the ministry can go fuck a nine-toed troll._


	2. sneaking out to make ou-

Potions class was boring these days. All Slughorn did was talk about the proper way to prepare ingredients. When they did get to make a potion, it was a ridiculously easy one. They were currently making the Wiggenweld potion, and Pansy let her mind wander as she added the ingredients. She could make this one in her sleep by now. 

She really hadn’t want to come back to Hogwarts this year, and she already had a plan for what she was going to do afterwards. But of course that was impossible now, and on top of it all, she didn’t even get to be a prefect. Her badge was taken and given to a Gryffindor. The Slytherins weren’t to be trusted. Pansy understood, and it wasn’t a surprise, but she certainly didn’t have to like it.

Draco had decided to skip this class, and Pansy wished she had decided to join him. She was meeting him in the library after, and he was expecting her to tell him everything. So she carefully measured out the ingredients and added them, starting with salamander blood. She heated the cauldron until it turned a deep purple, then poured in more salamander blood.

Even after everything they had been through, Pansy still couldn’t regret her actions in the war. She regretted what happened, and what Voldemort did, but she didn’t regret what she did. She did what she had to do to survive. Pansy plucked five lionfish spines from a little glass bottle and dropped them in her cauldron. She looked over to her right and saw Slughorn breathing down Longbottom’s neck. No surprise there, Longbottom had never been good at potions. Or anything except herbology, really.

Pansy’s potion turned a dazzling yellow and she added five more lionfish spines, followed by a gob of flobberworm mucus. Slughorn wasn’t nearly as bad as Snape, Pansy shuddered at the mere thought of him. He was always pissed about something and was always yelling about something. He was brilliant, and a phenomenal teacher. But he was an asshole, and deep down she was glad he was dead. Maybe that made her a bad person, but she suspected a lot of people felt the same way.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost time to go. Pansy thought about procrastinating so she didn’t have to finish her potion, but ultimately decided against it. She wasn’t concerned about her N.E.W.T.S, her skills were adequate enough. The class was unbelievably boring, especially after so many years of doing it. Draco had gone on and on about how good he was at potions and as much as she wanted to deny it, he was right. He didn’t have to even try, and he could make just about anything.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Potter knocked over one of his ingredients, spilling liquid everywhere. He fumbled for his wand and Granger sighed, spelling the mess away easily. Potter smiled sheepishly. Pansy arched an eyebrow, deciding to head over to the class store for more flobberworm mucus. She could feel Granger’s gaze on her as she went, burning into her back. Which was stranger, because Pansy didn’t  _ fucking do anything.  _ She tried not to sneer in response.

To Granger’s left, Potter dropped in some porcupine quills instead of lionfish spines. Pansy tried not to laugh. She quickly scanned the shelves, grabbed what she needed, and started making her way back to her table. Potter and Granger’s potion started to steam, turning a murky shade of brown. Granger looked at her cauldron, disappointment lighting her pretty features. She waved her wand and it was gone. Granger sighed, apparently deciding to start over from the beginning.

Pansy decided to mess with her on the way back. She breezed past their table, smirking. “Pity, your potion was looking delightful. Potter should have drank it, with any luck he’d have ended up in the hospital wing,” She winked, and Granger looked pissed. Pansy got back to her cauldron and added the rest of the flobberworm mucus, throwing in some honey water. She stirred it until it turned a dark teal. The bell rang and students started to file out, but Pansy stayed and dropped in the last ingredient. She waved to Slughorn and left her cauldron to simmer. Slughorn knew what he was doing, he would know that she was on the last stage of her potion. She hurried down the hall towards the library, late to meet Draco.

-

Draco opened his book of charms, looking over the more complicated ones. They looked fairly simple to him, but of course that was because his mother had made him practice every summer since he was nine. There might have been more difficult charms in the restricted section, but Draco wasn’t willing to risk his neck for an interesting charm unless he absolutely needed it. He turned a page and scowled, his eyes darkening. 

_ “Sectumsempra; a very dark curse that  _ _ mutilates the target and causes severe hemorrhaging - Created by former Professor Severus Snape.” _

His hands ghosted over his shirt, thinking of the pale pink scars hidden beneath it. The cuts on his face had been minor, and Snape had healed them with no problem. But he had deep gashes gouged into his chest, and they were not healed so easily. Logically, Draco knew that Potter hadn’t meant to hurt him like that. He had found a spell and used it. Potter’s face turned to instant regret when he had seen the damage he had done, and it was evident he was feeling guilty when he had rushed towards him. It didn’t mean he had to forgive him, though.

“I’m here!” Pansy gasped, dropping her arms and spilling her books all over the table. Spare papers flew everywhere. Draco snapped his book shut, looking up at her. 

“How did you even find me?” Draco had specifically chosen a hidden corner of the library. He was sick of judging eyes always on him. He was in a nook behind bookshelves, nestled in an unvisited section; muggle history.

Pansy grinned and sat down, organizing her books in a neat pile. “Sometimes it’s helpful to know where hard-to-find areas are, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross.”

“What can I say? I’m a wanted woman.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How was potions?”

Pansy started going through her books. “Just wonderful. We made the Wiggenweld potion,” She laughed. “Potter couldn’t do it. He’s rubbish at potions, always has been. Without the help of Granger he’s nothing, and it’s just about the easiest class, too. He did really well in sixth year, and then suddenly all of his skills disappeared. Rather bizarre if you ask me.”

“Who the fuck even knows what’s going on with Potter anymore,” Draco sneered, a bit surprised by the venom in his voice. He toned it down a bit. “He can do anything he wants now, the professors practically worship him. I doubt anybody would say a thing if he set the astronomy tower on fire,” Draco fingered the cover of his book, tracing the title letter by letter.

Pansy grabbed a book and started flipping through it. “Fuck, I forgot to grab this one book on atronomy.”

“What? Aren’t you doing well in that class?”

“Of course I am,” Pansy said, as though it were obvious. She was still looking through her book. “I have a theory to test out and I need another book. Could you grab it for me? It’s something to do with space, you’ll find it.”

“Uh no, I won’t,” Draco said, putting his book in his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “Who’s the author? I need  _ something.” _

Pansy looked away from her book for a moment. “Peter Schuehorn, I believe. It’s a study on the magical properties of the phases of the moon and the planets. I’m doing some research to see if certain kinds of magic strengthens depending on the moon and such.”

“You’re doing  _ extra  _ work? Why would you ever want to do that?” Draco stood up and pushed his chair in.

“Because it’s interesting, and if I’m right, it could change the way we do magic forever,” Pansy’s eyes lit up. “My theory is that different spells require different kinds of magic. Of course, magic stems from nature and in turn, space. Different auras can strengthen and weaken depending on the phases of the moon and planets. Say if you do a warming charm, it would take magic from-”

“I’m walking away now!” Draco said, backing up. Pansy could go on for hours if he let her. “I’m finding your book,” He ducked around a bookcase, off to the astronomy section.

Draco’s eyes flicked over the bookshelves as he walked. He wished he had interrogated Pansy for more information, but it was too late now. He would just have to find it on his own. He scanned the bookshelves for Schuehorn, his index finger dragging over the bindings. Some of the books were more modern, some were wrapped in worn leather, and some were just scrolls shoved into place. He at last found the book he needed and pulled it out, looking over the cover.  _ Beyond The Idea of Magical Space; A Study on Galactical Properties.  _ Draco put the book in his bag and turned to leave.

He immediately bumped into a fourth year, knocking them to ground. “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Draco started, blinking in surprise. Then he realized it wasn’t a fourth year and he scowled. It was, in fact, Potter. Draco had almost forgotten how short he was. Draco regained his cool expression almost immediately. “Watch where you’re going,” He snapped.

Potter collected the books he had dropped and stood up, dusting off his robes. “What was that?” He looked directly at Draco, raising his eyebrows.

“I said-” Draco’s lip curled. “-watch where you’re going.”

“No, before that,” Potter seemed to smirk. “Were you being  _ nice?”  _

“Not to you,” Draco scoffed. Potter was holding two books, probably off to see Granger. His nails were painted dark red. They looked nice, they complemented his smooth brown skin nicely. Draco wondered if Granger had done them. He had never seen Harry wear nail polish before. The edges were chipped, like he had started to peel off the colour but stopped.

Potter’s cocky smile dropped. He nodded to the book in Draco’s hands. “What are you reading?”

Draco was incredulous. He and Potter had never gotten far into a conversation without one of them hexing the other. “It’s for Pansy. Astronomy,” His voice was curt.

“That sounds interesting. Do y’mind if Hermione and I join you?” 

What the fuck. The war had to have done something to Potter’s head. It had to have messed with him somehow. “We were actually just leaving,” Draco’s smile was tight and very clearly fake.

Potter actually looked disappointed.  _ What the fuck.  _ “Maybe next time, then.”

Draco sighed. “If we’re both in the library and I just so happen to not want to hex you into oblivion, maybe,” He tightened his grip on his bag. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Pansy’s waiting for me,” He brushed past Potter briskly, turning sideways so that their shoulders didn’t touch. “That’s not a threat, by the way, in case you want to go reporting me. It’s just a fact.”

He made his way back to Pansy and tugged on her sleeve. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

Pansy looked up from the library book she was studying. She had highlighted some texts, which probably wasn’t allowed. “Why?”

“Potter’s being a prat. Let’s go,” Thankfully, Pansy didn’t ask any more questions. She just shrugged and grabbed her books, stuffing them into her bag. Draco was already leaving.

“I wonder why Potter’s here,” Pansy hurried after Draco, who was at the entrance to the library. He moved fast when he wanted to. “He was in Potions with me, it seems strange that he would come over here right afterwards if he wasn’t meeting anyone.”

Draco cast a lingering glance at the library before turning the corner with Pansy. “He said that he was studying with Hermione. He asked if they could join us,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I said no, of course. He’s a ruddy idiot. Sorry to make you leave so quickly, but I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse on the spot.”

Pansy shrugged. “It’s alright, the library’s always too hot anyways. We can study in the common room.”

“Sure,” Draco adjusted the strap on his shoulder. He kept his eyes on the ground, trying to push all thoughts of Potter from his mind.

-

“I’m fucking sick of studying,” Draco groaned and leaned back in his chair, the front legs balancing in midair. “We should go,” He slammed his book shut and put one hand on his forehead. It was about one in the morning, and they were the only ones still awake. The common room was silent except for the cheery green fire crackling in the corner. If he listened closely, he could hear Theodore’s snores in the dormitory.

Pansy yawned. “I don’t want to go to bed yet. I’m not sleepy,” She too closed her book and sat back.

“Sleepy? What are you, a first year?” Draco lifted an eyebrow, teasing but not really meaning it.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “No, dumbass. I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep. Do you ever feel like that?” She pushed all of her books away from her. “Like my bones hurt and I’m sore, but I don’t feel like sleeping.”

“I dunno. Maybe sometimes?” Draco looked at her. “We should just go somewhere. I bet even Filch is asleep now, and if not we can get Peeves to distract him,” Draco knew what he was suggesting was insane, but he felt so trapped. As if the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him. He needed some air, somewhere away from the dizzying amount of hallways.

It took a moment for Pansy to reply. “Sure. Where?” 

Draco stifled a grin. This was why they were friends. Merlin, he loved Pansy. 

“Where can we go that we won’t get caught?” Draco looked up at the ceiling, studying the gray stones. He sighed. This was a very, very bad idea. If they got caught they would be accused of plotting and sent to the Ministry for a trial.

“The library’s closed,” Pansy mused. “And it would be best if it were outside… How about the Quidditch pitch?” She smirked, her eyes lighting up. She wanted to make some mischief.

Draco smiled, and for once his heart felt light. He brushed his worries aside. He felt like he was fourteen again. “This is a horrible idea.”

“Yeah, it is,” Pansy flicked her wand and cast a silencing charm on their shoes. “It’s only fun if there’s some risk to it.”

“Fair enough,” Draco shrugged off his robe and draped it over the back of the couch. The loss of the robe allowed him to move much more freely, so Pansy did the same. They would be back before anyone else, so Draco didn’t worry about bringing it up to their dorms.

He clutched Pansy’s hand as they left the common room, making their way down the halls. They stayed close to the walls, ready to duck behind tapestries or in abandoned classrooms if they heard Filch. But the school was silent, though Draco could have sworn he heard footsteps behind him at some point. When he looked back, no one was there, so he just blamed it on nerves. They at last reached a side door and went outside, following the long path to the Quidditch pitch.

It didn’t take as long as one would think. Draco had played on the Quidditch team for years, so he knew the best paths to take. The weather had yet to become cold, and a cool breeze whistled through the trees. The stars glittered brightly overhead, lighting the way. It was peaceful, and Draco felt like he could breathe for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts. 

He had stopped playing quidditch in his sixth year. It had seemed pointless, to chase a ball around a field when there was so much going on. Potter had continued, of course, but to Draco it had just felt childish. As he and Pansy made their way into the stands, he thought back on his quidditch matches fondly. The adrenaline rush, the wind in his hair, the cheering fans. It was bloody brilliant. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be that carefree again. He would never feel that way again, Draco knew that in his bones.

They settled down in one of the stands, the banisters empty of any team colour. The roof was missing, so the night sky was visible. Draco looked up, his eyes mapping the different constellations. He laid down on the seats, his legs stretched out. He had a sudden memory of him and his mother studying the stars.

It was a clear night, and for the first time in a while, calm flooded over Draco. “Remember third year?” Pansy’s voice was soft, and her laugh was even softer. “When we started dating? Merlin’s ballsack, I can’t believe I ever felt anything for you.”

Draco put his hands on his chest “Ouch. Was thirteen year old me not sexy enough for you?” He looked at her and stuck out his bottom lip. “What about now? Am I sexy now?”

Pansy giggled and rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot, Malfoy.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Am I now? That’s not what you said when we were snogging in my dorm in fourth year,” He sighed. “I was sexy then, wasn’t I? I wonder where it went.”

“Yuck,” Pansy made a face. “You were never sexy.”

Draco pretended to be hurt. “Wow, I am so shocked.”

Pansy snorted. “As I was  _ saying,  _ I just thought it was strange, how we dated in third year just to cover up that we’re both gay,” She fiddled with a button on her shirt.

Draco laughed, the sound echoing. “Fuck, Pansy. I knew you were gay. The way you looked at Angelina Johnson? Come on. I also knew that I was gay. That’s why I asked you out. I knew that neither of us would get hurt.”

“You asshole!” Pansy’s mouth was open. “I wasn’t even that obvious!”

“You also talked about Daphne Greengrass, and how smart Susan Bones was for a hufflepuff. I even remember their names, that’s how much you mentioned them,” Draco shrugged the best he could whilst lying down. “I figured that it would be the perfect cover for both of us. And I was right, so I don’t regret it.

“Well fuck,” Pansy leaned back onto the wall. “I guess it worked, so I don’t blame you. I bet some people still think we’re shagging.”

“Let them think what they want,” Draco shrugged. “It’s not like it’s gonna damage our reputations any more than they already are,” He looked over at Pansy. “Unless, of course, you want to make the rumours true?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Pansy almost wheezed. “Yes, Draco, I would love nothing more than to shag the fuck out of you. It’s my greatest wish in life.”

“Of course it is.”

It was quiet, and they sat together watching the stars until Pansy finally spoke up. “Why did you and Blaise break up? In year six?”

Draco opened one eye. “You knew about that?” He thought back to year six, when Blaise was all he cared about. The late nights, the smiles between kisses. Blaise holding his hand as he told him about Voldemort, and his task to kill Dumbledore. Blaise hugging him, and telling him it would work itself out.  _ “It’s alright, love.”  _

“I’m not quite sure. I think we dated for the wrong reasons,” Draco stared into the sky. “We were both just looking for a way to be loved, and we both had crushes, and we tried to transfer those feelings to each other. It just didn’t work out,” He smiled. “I don’t regret it, though. He provided some comfort in a year where I didn’t have any.”

Pansy looked thoughtful. “I always wondered, you were going great and then suddenly you stopped. It just seemed odd.” She pulled out a book from her bag, and Draco tried not to roll his eyes. Of course she would have brought her books.

They didn’t speak much after that, and Draco’s eyelids were slowly sliding shut. It wouldn’t hurt to take a short nap, and of course Pansy would wake him up if it got too late.

-

_ He remembered walking up to Buckbeak, keeping his gaze on the wild creature. He had been thirteen, and the sight of the huge animal had sent fear shooting down his spine. He was careful to heed Hagrid’s directions, bowing and maintaining eye contact. He glanced over at Potter, and intense dislike seethed in the pit of his stomach. _

_ “This is very easy,” He said, trying to look bored. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it…. I bet you’re not dangerous at all are you?” He stroked Buckbeak’s neck affectionately. “Are you, you great ugly brute?” He didn’t mean it, not really. He liked Buckbeak, once he got over the initial fear. _

_ Then Buckbeak reared up and slashed his arm. He screamed, mostly from shock rather than pain. Blood welled up and stained his robes, and he had felt sick. He had never this much of his own blood before. _

_ “I’m dying!” He had yelled, because at that moment he had thought he was dying. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!” Then his head cleared, and he realized it was just a wound. _

_ “Yer’ not dyin!” Hagrid said angrily, lifting him up in his arms.  _

_ Draco felt a flush of embarrassment, so he decided to play it up more. He never really liked Hagrid anyway. “Where’s Pansy? I want her with me in my last moments,” He sighed, clutching his injured arm dramatically. Might as well milk it. “Just wait until my father hears about this.”  _

_ He didn’t really want to see Pansy, but it would be good for his image. Pansy Parkinson was nice to other slytherins, and she had money, and she was a pureblood. She was surprisingly smart and scarily good at transfiguration, though she tried to hide her enjoyment. He didn’t want to be with her, however much his father may have wished it. He couldn’t help but feel a deep tug for someone else. _

_ Instead of dealing with it, he made fun of him. Poked at his image and his friends and his house. He messed with him until he snapped, until he yelled, until he hexed him. Draco didn’t mind, and it’s not like he would pay any attention to him any other way. It wasn’t the smartest plan, but it worked. As he lay in the hospital bed, Madame Pomfrey tending to him, Harry Potter appeared in flashes across his mind. _

_ Green eyes, tousled dark hair. _

_ Fuck him. Draco wanted nothing more than to hex him, but at the same time he wanted to lower his wand and help him. For the son of a Death Eater, this was very confusing. He wanted to hug Potter and tell him everything would be alright. But he couldn’t. Of course he had to fall for Potter, with his stupid round glasses and his stupidly high morals. It was endearing, almost, how oblivious Potter was. _

_ Merlin, how he hated him. _

_ Draco wanted to get under his skin, to bother him, to make him feel the hatred he had for him. Maybe if Draco acted like he hated him, he eventually would. He would forget all about this and be a loyal follower of Voldemort. He had to. _

_ - _

Draco awoke to Pansy shaking him, looking worried. Sleep clouded his mind for a moment. 

“Draco!” Pansy’s eyes were wide. “Your arm!” She was panicking and she pulled out her wand and hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Draco looked at his arm. His Dark Mark was black, and the ink seemed to be seeping further into his skin. It took a minute for the pain to register. Then the burning sensation spread over his arm, and Draco wouldn't have been surprised if the skin started curling off. Blinding whiteness started to overtake him, and he clenched his teeth to stay calm. He cast a cooling charm, desperately trying to get it to stop.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He muttered, mostly trying to soothe Pansy. It felt like tiny shards of glass were twisting themselves into his skin. He reminded himself to alter that cooling spell. If he combined it with a summoning spell, perhaps he could wrap his arm in ice. He took a breath as he slowly felt the pain fade. The Mark still stung, but it was muted by the cooling charm. He rolled down the sleeves of his white shirt. “Now that that’s figured out-”

“No,” Pansy looked upset. “Draco, what was that? It’s important, you need to tell someone. You don’t get to just brush past that like it didn’t matter,” She put her hand on Draco’s shoulder, and looked him straight in the eyes. Her brown eyes were intense, and Draco tried not to look away. “You matter, Draco, and if something’s hurting you we need to figure this out.” Her eyes were watery, but they were focused. She wanted to help him.

_ You matter, Draco.  _

He felt hot tears crawling up his throat. It surprised him, to have people that cared about him. He wondered what he did to deserve it. Pansy, Blaise, Theo, they didn’t do nearly as much as Draco did. They didn’t hurt as many people as Draco did. There was no reason for them to care about him. But they did, and Draco would be forever grateful.

“It’s fine,” He said, not quite believing it himself. “It’s happened before, but it’s not a big deal.”

“We need to get that off of you,” Pansy said, glaring at him. “I’m going to figure out a way, and we’re going to do this. Okay?”

Draco looked at her. She was almost as damaged as he was, she had suffered so much loss and she was not willing to lose him, too. Her hair was cut uneven, and the first two buttons of her shirt were undone. She was a bit of a mess, but really, who wasn’t these days? Everyone was a little bit broken. “Okay. We can try.”

-

_ Dear Ministry, _

_ The fuck do you mean I can’t cuss this much? You guys aren’t even supposed to be responding. If you are allowed to respond, can you at least tell me your name, dear ministry worker? I really feel like we’re bonding here. I want to have someone to write to. Then it won’t feel so official. I guess it doesn’t even matter, because I doubt you guys are going to pity me. It’s alright, I can’t blame you. It’s not a big deal. _

_ I bumped into Potter at the library today. I know I said I wasn’t going to talk to him, and I mean to keep that promise, but the fucker keeps popping up. It’s so annoying. I told him I wanted to hex him, but I don’t. I say a lot of things I don’t mean. I have an image to keep up, you know. Ever since that fight in sixth year, I don’t want to cast another spell on Potter ever again. Not because I’m afraid of him, he’s nearly half a metre shorter than I am. No, it’s because I don’t think I can bear to see him in pain again. _

_ We’ve been through so much, and seeing any of my classmates in pain right now disturbs me. The war is over, and the winning side should be happy. I really don’t want to hurt him. Merlin, I wish I felt like this ages ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes. But what’s done is done, and I can’t go back. Even if I had a time turner, I don’t think I would go back. There’s too much damage, and being without my father is strangely freeing. You better not put that in your report, that information is between you and me. I’m trusting you, ministry worker I don’t know. Oh, I guess I’m supposed to inform you that I’m alive and not working for any Death Eaters. I can confirm, I am still alive and not evil. Do what you like with that information. Fuck, this is really embaressing to be writing all of this down. I wonder how many ministry workers are going to laugh at it. I’m past the point where I care about my image, though. With a father in Azkaban, there’s a limit to how good I can make the Malfoy family look.  _

_ D. Malfoy _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know that it's five months later but it's here,, and that's all that matter right? Right??? Anyways we should be getting to the drama soon, just hang in there.


	3. just go away

Potter won’t stop fucking  _ looking  _ at him and Draco’s ready to snap. It started off small, with glances in the library and the Great Hall. The first few times he caught him staring, Potter just looked away. Draco didn’t think much of it. Then it became a thing. Every time Potter was near, he was looking at him. 

Then it got worse. They kept running into each other. If Draco went to the library, Potter was there studying in less than ten minutes. If Draco decided to speak to a teacher after class, guess who just so happened to be talking with his friends outside. It was fucking annoying at this point.

The worst part is that Potter wasn’t even  _ talking  _ to him, he was just- observing. It wouldn’t be so goddamn infuriating if they actually had a conversation here and there. 

Draco started sneaking away after class. He was the first to go, and usually the last to arrive. He took strange turns in the halls, making his route longer than it should have been. It seemed to work, but Potter always showed up in the end. It was like he could smell him. So fucking weird.

He resorted to holing himself in the Slytherin common room. It was quiet, and Potter couldn’t get to him. He had to send Pansy to grab new reading material, but at least he didn’t have to deal with Potter’s eyes boring into him. Potter always made him feel as if he had done something wrong.

It was there, in the Slytherin common room, where Pansy found him, nestled in a corner. “Draco!” She slapped a piece of parchment onto the table, sliding it over to him. “I figured out your little-” she leaned closer, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Dark Mark problem.”

Draco looked over the parchment. It was filled with scribbles. “Am I supposed to be reading this?”

“No!” Pansy rolled her eyes. “It’s math. I had to figure out the right balance of charms. Too much and your arm could fall off due to frostbite,” She tapped an equation with her quill, leaving tiny ink dots. “I did some digging, and there’s a healing charm that gives you bandages. It’s similar to a summoning spell, but it’s just bandages. Madame Pomfrey and the healers at St. Mungo's use it, so there must be a store somewhere. If you combine that with a cooling charm, you can summon ice bandages,” She circled a different equation. “I did the math, it’s possible.”

Draco read the numbers again. “Is that all?” He asked, looking up. “It seems too easy,” While he had his doubts, if anyone could do it, it was Pansy.

“Shut up, I’m not done yet,” Pansy tapped another series of numbers with her quill. “The problem is getting it to  _ stay  _ cold. You could keep casting it, but it would summon more bandages and we don’t need that. If you add an insulation charm, you can use it to keep the cold in. I don’t know how long it lasts, but you can always recast it. It can’t fail,” She sat back and grinned, satisfied with her work. “You’re going to have to figure out how to cast it, though. I did the paperwork, but you’ve always been better at doing the real stuff. I’m good at the theory part.”

“Not a problem,” Draco said, taking the parchment and stuffing it in his bag. “This is amazing, thank you so much, Pansy.”

Pansy waved him off, as if she didn’t spend hours figuring out how to cast a spell. “It’s no big deal, I had some free time. It honestly wasn’t that difficult.”

Sometimes it pays to have smart friends. 

“Oh I just remembered, Blaise and Theo are having a guy’s night in their dorm next week. You wanna go? It’ll be just us,” Pansy was still holding her quill, and she twirled it as she spoke. “Theo’s getting fire whiskey, I still don’t know where he finds it, but hey, it works.”

Draco laughed. “Pansy, I live there. Only the three of us are in there. They can’t exactly throw a secret party without me.”

“Is that a yes?”

He thought for a moment. They hadn’t had a night like that in quite a while. “Sure,” Draco said. “As long as Blaise doesn’t bring butterbeer again. That did not mix well with the fire whiskey,” He made a face. Most of his night had involved the inside of a toilet bowl. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

-

He finally reached his breaking point with Potter in the library. Draco had managed to sneak away on a day where he didn’t have classes, and decided to refresh himself on Transfiguration. He knew that the Gryffindors had Defense Against the Dark Arts, so he figured he wouldn’t be bothered.

Potter showed up within the hour.  _ Goddammit.  _ How did he keep finding him? Usually, Potter kept his distance and left him alone. Not today, apparently. He decided to sit at the same fucking table. There were dozens of different tables, and Potter just had to sit next to him, didn’t he?

It’s fine, it’s fine. They didn’t have to talk.

“What are you studying? I thought you were good at every subject.”

_ God fucking dammit. _

Draco looked over. Potter seemed sincere. It was just him there, Granger was nowhere to be seen. He could answer. He could talk to him, and actually have a civil conversation. But he won’t. He no longer had opportunities to be friends with Potter.

“Do you need something?” Draco snapped his book shut and glared at Potter from across the table. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you following me everywhere. What the fuck do you want? I know it’s not fucking homework answers,” He sneered. “I know everyone’s waiting for me to snap, for me to curse everyone and murdr the teachers.”

Potter lifted his eyebrows. “What? I didn’t-” His glasses were smudged.

“You didn’t _ what,  _ Potter?” Draco stood up and shoved his book in his bag. He was sick of Potter pretending to be innocent. “My life is hard enough as it is, I don’t need your snobby nose breathing down my neck until the day we graduate,” He pounded his fist on the table. “I don’t need difficulties from you, or the Dark Mark, or any other of the Gryffindor, so just leave me the fuck alone, okay?” He grabbed his bag and walked out, not turning back.

Maybe he should have.

Draco turned into a secluded corner and collapsed against the wall. He sighed, his hand absently rubbing his Dark Mark. Why did Potter have to be so complicated? Or maybe he wasn’t complicated and Draco was just an idiot. Before he could regain his composure, he was hit with another flashback.

-

_ Draco had stayed up all night making ‘Potter Stinks’ buttons. It was a stupid thing to do, of course it was, but it would be worth it to see the look on Potter’s face. It had taken Merlin knows how long to figure out the right combination of spells, but he had done it. He couldn’t help but marvel in his genius. _

_ Cedric Diggory was the true Hogwarts champion, and Potter couldn’t take that away from him. Potter was a joke, Draco was surprised they even allowed a fourteen year old to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. It was a disgrace to every school competing. _

_ He was wearing a button when a flare exploded above the maze. Fear trickled down his spine like freezing water. Panic shot through him. Was it one of the champions? Was it Harry? He glanced at Pansy, who was clutching his hand next to him. She gave him a reassuring smile, and Draco felt guilty. _

_ Draco had just assumed that Pansy knew he didn’t actually like her, but it didn’t seem like they were on the same page. He returned Pansy’s soft smile, and made a mental note to let her down easy. She didn’t deserve to be strung along like this. She could handle it, and hopefully they would stay friends. For a second he felt trapped, like he was drowning in the reality of this fake relationship. _

_ All of a sudden, cheers erupted from the crowd. Harry Potter had emerged from the maze, but it looked like he was on his knees, bending over someone. It appeared that he had won. But he didn’t look happy, and Draco knew something was wrong. _

_ A scream rang out from the stands, and Draco’s heart dropped. His throat felt thick. Potter was crouched over the dead body of Cedric Diggory. Draco’s stomach rolled, and he wanted to throw up. He felt like he was imposing. It was strangely intimate, watching the famous Harry Potter mourn. _

_ Draco was annoyed. No, that was the wrong word for it. He was almost… jealous. He watched Potter with a blank face, his gray eyes dull. Potter cared for Diggory. If that was Draco, he was sure that Potter would have rejoiced. Potter would have liked that his enemy was dead. Draco was more fucked than he had thought. Wishing he were dead so Potter could mourn him? Merlin. _

_ It might be better if he were dead. _

_ Moody led Potter away from the body, and Draco wanted to go after him. But he stayed in the stands, and watched Potter walk away until he couldn’t see him anymore. _

_ - _

Just as suddenly as it happened, the flashback was over. Draco sat down against the wall, stunned at how realistic it was and clutching his arm. His Dark Mark had turned black again, the ink creeping up his skin like vines. It was burning, as if his arm had been plunged into liquid fire. He cursed,and cast the cooling charm Pansy had altered. She didn’t have to know it had happened again.

The charm worked surprisingly well, summoning cold bandages with a bluish tint wrapped around his arm. They were cool to the touch, staying secure against the burning flesh. He briefly wondered why his arm wasn’t charring, it seemed like the pain was only contained inside his arm. There were no obvious indicators except for the ink seeping further into his skin. Draco rolled his sleeve back down, relieved that no one had walked by him.

He stayed for a moment, leaning against the wall. Draco closed his eyes, the cool bricks a relief. He wondered if he could stay there forever. Just him, no Potter, no professors, no Ministry of Magic. Everything would be easier if he just stayed out of sight, and kept his head down.

Except it was nearing curfew, and Draco had to get back to the Slytherin common room. He hadn’t studied at all since the library. It was Potter’s fault. Draco was reminded of their conversation and he flinched, regretting what he had said. It seemed good at the time, but now he wondered if Potter had something important to say. It was unlikely, of course, but it was possible.

Why couldn’t he have left Potter alone? Why did he have to fuck it all up? Talking to him is only going to end in disaster. Sighing, Draco made his way back to the Slytherin dormitory. Pansy was probably waiting for him. He was the only one in the hallway, his shoes making a soft clicking sound as he walked down the corridor. 

His arm was still sore, but it wasn’t burning anymore. Pansy’s altered cooling charm did wonders. The bandages were still wrapped around his arm, soothing the inflamed skin. Actually, how would he get them off? He could probably cut them, but that’s something a muggle would do. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Headmistress McGonagall rounded the corner, her eyes fixated on a folder in her hands. Her cape was billowing behind her, and then she looked up, making eye contact with him before he could slip away. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy, come join me in my office,” She continued walking, not giving him a second glance, and Draco had no choice but to follow her.

-

It was awkward, to say in the least. McGonagall looked over her document for a solid ten minutes before any of them said anything. She might have just forgotten, or it might have been some weird power move. Either way, Draco sat in tense silence. He shifted uncomfortably, counting down the seconds until he could leave.

“Have a biscuit, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall passed a jar over to him, and he grabbed a biscuit out of courtesy.

He stared down at his hands. “Is there a reason I’m here?”

“Of course,” McGonagall closed her folder and clasped her hands together. “I wanted to talk to you about school, about your studies. Are you doing well?” She peered at him over the frames of her thick glasses, giving him her full attention.

Draco sighed. “With all due respect, Headmistress, I think we both know the answer. I’m doing good academically, but me and most of the older Slytherins are counting down the days until they’re out of here,” He looked up, matching her gaze. He kept his expression carefully controlled, trying not to give away anything. “There’s no point in avoiding it, I know you want me to talk about my father.

“I haven’t spoken to him or any of his acquaintances in months,” Draco sighed, placing the uneaten biscuit back on the table. “The spells on my wand prevent me from casting anything else outside of basic spellwork. I’m not evil. Is that all you need?”

McGonagall looked surprised. “Mr. Malfoy, I’m aware of that. Quite the contrary, I wanted to ask you about Harry Potter. I apologize for not starting with that. Mr. Potter has no tact, the staff has noticed he seems to be bothering you. Is this true?”

Draco gave a tentative nod. 

“I am looking to excel in everything our former Headmaster failed at, and while he ignored situations like these, it’s time for a change. I am going to treat every student equally. Now, would you like the staff to get involved?” She looked at him pointedly, as if daring him to say no.

Draco blinked. He hadn’t expected this. He figured that McGonagall would let Potter do whatever he wanted, seeing that he saved the magical world or whatever. Dumbledore had always shown clear favoritism, and he had just learned to endure it. Draco wasn’t surprised when the Slytherins decided not to help in the battle of Hogwarts. Maybe if they had been treated like students instead of criminals, the battle would have been over sooner. 

It was a fine line between caution and prejudice, and Dumbledore crossed it. Many, many times. At some point the line was crisp, it was defined and it was real. And then the line was blurred, and Slytherins started turning to the dark side. If they couldn’t find acceptance with their peers, they turned to someone else. Draco was guilty of this, and he couldn’t deny it. 

“No, Headmistress. Potter isn’t an issue,” Draco said at last. He looked down, fiddling with his hands. “He- he’s not bothering me at all. I spoke to him about it, and he didn’t really give me an answer, but he’s not going to follow me around anymore. I’m sure of it,” He sighed, feeling slightly guilty. He avoided telling McGonagall all of the details, because he actually respected her and didn’t want her to think he was an ass. Even though he most certainely was.

“Very good, Mr. Malfoy. I’m glad you resolved it,” McGonagall smiled, an expression Draco wasn’t quite used to seeing. “If you need anything, anything at all, my door is always open. You are dismissed,” She nodded and went back to her paperwork.

He really hoped that McGonagall would make life better for the younger Slytherins. He hoped first years would make Gryffindor friends, and they would share answers and grow up together. They deserved to be happy, to do whatever they wanted and not get scorned.

It was too late for him, he knew that. The entirety of the Wizarding world knew his name and what he did. Draco would need to move away entirely if he wanted a fresh start. Somewhere secluded, or somewhere muggle. If he made it long enough to move away, that is. Disappearing wasn’t ideal, but it would be easier for everyone.

-

_ Ministry of Magic, _

_ I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing here. I feel like that’s embarrassing. Do you just want me to update you on my life? Do you want all the drama going on? There’s really not much. You still haven’t told me your name. I suppose that’s fine, for all I know, there’s multiple people reading my letters. I like to think my letters are connected, like you have to know the lore from the last one before you read this one. I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t know, I might just be looking for a reason to feel special. _

_ Remember when I told you I would stay away from Potter? I was a goddamn fool. I knew that it would be easy for me, but I didn’t account for him, the git. He keeps following me around, he probably thinks I’m planning something. I told him off in the library and I kind of feel bad about it. Not enough to apologize, though. I’ll be damned if I ever apologize to him. He’s kind of an asshole, honestly. But maybe I’m saying that because that’s all I want to see. This year has been difficult, and we’re just over a month in. I don’t know what I’m going to do. School is so much more boring than I remember. I guess I’ll keep going, I’ll stick with the Slytherins. There’s not much else to do, right? _

_ Parkinson is a godsend. I don’t think I’d be able to get through the year without her. I’m never telling her that. She probably already knows. She’s incredible at spellwork. I’ve never noticed that before. I should start paying closer attention to my friends. I think I’m a little selfish, I’m not as good a friend as I should be. They do so much for me, they’re good people. I don’t deserve them. _

_ I hope it’s okay I’m basically just telling you about my life. I feel like that’s weird. I’m not a Death Eater, I hope you can tell by how pathetic my life is. The Ministry is probably laughing at me, at these stupid letters. You just have to tell them I’m not evil right? Can the details stay between us? If not, I hope I never know how many people are laughing at me and my shitty problems. _

_ D. Malfoy _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter than usual, but I was listening to music and crying while writing this so do with that information what you will. We should get into more Draco + Harry interactions soon, I'm still progressing the plot heh


	4. i don't think i can trust you just yet

Harry had a lot of problems. He was pretty sure that killing Draco Malfoy would solve all of them. 

Well, all but one. He really didn’t want to come back to Hogwarts this year. He loved Hogwarts, and he always would, but when he had gotten the letter inviting him back, his immediate response had been no. He and Ron wanted to be an auror, and they were planning to work together.

But Hermione had insisted, saying that they hadn’t finished seventh year and therefore they hadn’t finished school at all. Ron had flat out refused, and Harry missed him greatly. Ron always made Hogwarts more fun. It was unlike him, because Harry assumed that he would want to be close to Hermione. Then Ron went to work at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with George, and Harry understood.

Harry really didn’t argue too much with Hermione about going back. He could have said no, but she didn’t want to go alone, and something was drawing him back, so secretly he was glad he had an excuse. When he got there, he realized that it was Malfoy. 

Malfoy had returned, and Harry knew that he did, it was part of his probation. Everything in him told him not to trust Malfoy or any of his little gang. Harry was trying to be civil, to not provoke him. He felt like sixth year all over again. He was even tracking him with the Marauder's Map, to make sure he wasn’t consulting with anyone he wasn’t supposed to.

When Harry tried to have a conversation with him, Malfoy exploded. Harry wasn’t surprised. What had he expected? Malfoy would always be the same. He thought Malfoy might have been different after he spoke at his trial, but Harry should have known. He would always be the same, stuck-up, snobby asshole.

So why couldn’t he get him out of his head? 

Harry sat in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was way past curfew, and Harry should have been asleep a long time ago. He couldn’t help but wonder what Malfoy was up to. He had to have an evil plan, right? He mentioned his Dark Mark in the library, which had to be suspicious. All Harry did was ask him a question, and he got pissed.

Malfoy was unnecessarily confusing. He wished Sirius was here. Harry felt a tug in his heart as he remembered his godfather. He was never the most responsible adult, and looking back on it, Harry knew that their relationship was unhealthy. Sirius had seen him as a replacement for James. But Sirius had been a good friend despite his flaws, and Harry would do anything to see Padfoot waiting for him in an alley behind Hogsmeade.

Unable to sleep, Harry decided to get up. There was no one else in his dorm, seeing that all his roommates decided not to come back. Neville started studying herbology full time, and Seamus and Dean bought a farm in Ireland. They mentioned something about wanting to be closer to Seamus’ mom, and Harry still didn’t understand why Dean also went. He knew they were best friends, but it seemed strange for Dean to move countries for a friend.

He sat on the edge of his bed, debating whether or not if he should wake Hermione up. If he did she would be upset, but she would definitely keep him company. She seemed to pour all her energy into studying, even more than usual these days, and Harry wondered if she was avoiding thinking about something else.

In the end, he decided to let her sleep. It wasn’t worth it, and Harry liked being alone anyways. He made his way down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, careful not to step on the creaky boards. He opened the Fat Lady’s portrait and slipped outside, trying not to wake her up. Harry felt tears well up, and embarrassment flushed over him. It was stupid, but seeing Hogwarts so normal was comforting. Life would continue, without Voldemort. 

Thankfully, Harry had remembered to take the Marauder's Map. He had offered it to George, but he had refused, saying he had no need of it. Harry had kept it, thinking he would give it to his kids. But then he and Ginny had split, and Harry wasn’t sure what to do with the Map. He liked Ginny, he really did, but all they ever talked about was Quidditch and it seemed that that was all they had in common. 

They drifted apart, and they couldn’t mend it. Or maybe they just didn’t want to.

Harry wasn’t too bothered. Ginny was great, but he couldn’t see himself living with her. He opened the Map, looking over the familiar passages and letters. Filch was on the other side of the castle, so he didn’t have to worry about being caught. Peeves was singing overhead, the sound echoing loudly through the halls. It was all so familiar. 

He could see his dot, moving slowly. Harry also noticed two other dots approaching him, labeled  _ Draco Malfoy  _ and  _ Pansy Parkinson _ . He squinted, wondering if he had seen that correctly. There they were, their dots moving swiftly down the hall. They were making their way down to where he was, and Harry looked around, panicked. He spotted a small broom closet to the side and he took cover, leaving the door slightly cracked.

“So you think he’s hot,” Parkinson’s voice was amused. She was walking next to Malfoy, looking casual. She was striding down the hall as if she were meant to be there. Malfoy was fighting a smile, and Harry realized he had never seen such sincere amusement on him. It suited him, somehow.

Malfoy snorted. “I don’t think Potter is hot, Pansy. That’s ridiculous,” He nudged her with his elbow, and she started giggling. “He looks kind of like a lizard, don’t you think? With his glasses?” He was grinning.

Parkinso started laughing. “A lizard? I guess I can see it.”

Harry felt his face heat up. How often did they talk about him? They looked so… normal. Malfoy was different when he wasn’t trying to kill him. Of course he was still an asshole, that would never change, but he had friends for a reason. They seemed to think he was funny. The idea was so bizarre.

“Oh hey, what are you writing in your letters? I try to piss them off the most without getting myself in trouble,” Parkinson sighed fondly. “I’m doing Merlin’s work here, Draco.” Draco. Sometimes Harry forgot he had a first name.

Malfoy shrugged. “I kind of use them as a journal, you know? It’s not like anyone’s gonna yell at me for it,” Harry had a sudden desire to read Malfoy’s letters. He knew that it was part of his probation, but he hadn’t given it very much thought.

Malfoy looked over to the closet for just a moment, and his smile faltered. He peered closer, and Harry’s heart beat faster. Then he looked away, running a hand through his hair. Parkinson said something else, and Malfoy gave a small chuckle as they walked away.

They passed the broom closet, and Harry could no longer see them. He waited until their laughter died down, and crept out of the closet. He stood in the hallway for a moment, debating. He could follow them, he could get them in trouble and kicked out of school.

Harry folded the Marauder's Map, put it in his pocket, and made his way back to his dorm.

It wasn’t worth it. They looked so carefree, so human. They were acting like actual people, and Harry couldn’t find it in his heart to get them in trouble. He didn’t want Malfoy to send him another withering glare, to look at him with such hatred. 

Harry was almost back to his dorm when he heard the crying. He looked around, following the noise. It was almost inaudible, and Harry would have missed it if it hadn’t been so quiet. He finally rounded a corner to see a mousey fifth year sitting against the wall with his head buried in his hands.

A memory surfaced in Harry’s mind. “ _ Guess what, Harry? My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!” _ Colin Creevey had been so proud to have two muggleborn wizards in the same family.

Dennis looked up, his eyes watery. He gave Harry a weak smile and wiped his tears away. “Hey, Harry.”

It was strange, seeing him there. Harry had been affected by the war and the deaths that had followed, but he never thought that other people had been as deeply touched as he had. It was awful and horribly unfair that people who didn’t even fight were grieving. “I- I’m sorry,” He didn’t know what to say. 

Dennis gave Harry a sad smile. “I wanted to thank you, actually. You were Colin’s hero.”

Harry looked down, standing awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m quite deserving of that. I was never the nicest to him,” He said quietly. “I left an autographed picture of him on his grave. I think he would have liked it,” He had never told anyone he went to Colin’s funeral. It seemed too personal, almost. 

“My parents didn’t want me to come back, but I had to. Colin would have wanted me too. ‘Be brave’, he would have said. ‘You’re a Gryffindor.’ It’s just hard,” Dennis seemed to be studying his shoes. “He told me to stay home, and I didn’t argue. I stayed with our parents, and he never came back. I kind of regret it now,” He laughed humorlessly. “We used to review our schoolwork at night. It’s just lonely now,” He shook his head, as if he had just remembered something. “I’m sorry, you must have somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

“No, it’s alright,” Harry leaned against the wall opposing him. “I’ve lost all the father figures I’ve ever had. I know it’s not the same, but I understand. It just seems to get worse the more time passes. But I’m glad I knew them, and I try to only remember the good,” Harry smiled dryly. “It’s shit advice, I know, but it works for me.”

Dennis nodded. He seemed to be carefully planning his next words. “I can barely look at Malfoy without wanting to punch him,” He grimaced, clutching his robe so hard his knuckles turned white. “I look at him, and I want to kill him. I want him in Azkaban, Harry,” Dennis looked away. “I don’t want to feel like this.”

Harry fiddled with his hands for a moment, staying silent. Was it really Malfoy’s fault the Battle of Hogwarts happened? Surely Voldemort would have found another way in if he hadn’t helped. Malfoy exposed hundreds of defenseless students to Death Eaters, and it ended up with many of them killed. But there he was, walking down the hall, laughing with his friend. It wasn’t fair.

Did Malfoy deserve another chance at life? Was that really his decision to make?

“I spoke at his trial,” Harry said, his face flushing. “I defended him. He’s a terrible person. He’s rude and he’s cruel and he hasn’t even shown any remorse. But he doesn’t deserve to die. No one does, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep everyone alive,” Harry sighed. “Who are we to decide who lives or dies?”   


Dennis rubbed at his nose. “You’re terrible at speeches,” But he gave Harry a small smile, and he had stopped crying. “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too, Creevey.”

-

Harry finally arrived back to his room and he collapsed on his bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. He couldn’t get Malfoy’s smile out of his head. He couldn’t get Dennis out of his head. Malfoy couldn’t just walk free after everything he did, but the rest of his life shouldn’t be thrown away because of a mistake he made when he was a teenager.

The memory Malfoy’s smile stubbornly remained, and Harry groaned. Could he have seen that everyday? If he had shaken his hand, if he had been sorted into Slytherin? Would Malfoy have joined Voldemort, if Harry had been his friend? He thought about that day in the library, when Malfoy was studying alone.

He had looked so peaceful, and Harry wanted to have a conversation with him. He had tracked him down with the Marauder’s Map, he didn’t even know the reason why. Malfoy had seemed suspicious that day. Harry had asked him what he was reading, and Malfoy had exploded on him. He still didn’t understand why, but it didn’t seem that Malfoy was actively planning something.

Struck by an idea, Harry got up and rummaged around in his trunk for a quill. He cast  _ Lumos,  _ and the end of his wand lit up. He sat down at a desk and started writing to the Ministry of Magic. Harry wanted to know what Malfoy was sending to the Ministry, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask for a copy of his weekly letters. He’d send it in the morning, the Owlery was closed. 

Malfoy couldn’t be trusted, of course, but Harry didn’t think he was out to get him. At the moment, that is. Probably later, though. But maybe Malfoy wasn’t as bad as he seemed. Harry didn’t even realize he fell asleep until the sun streamed through his windows the next morning.

-

Harry awoke to Hermione shaking him. “What the-” His eyes were blurry with sleep, and his head was still foggy from the night before. He sat up. “How did you even get in here?”

She looked annoyed, and she shook her head in response, her dark curls bouncing. “That’s not important.”

“I keep the door locked!”

“Harry!” Hermione scowled. “You promised you would help me study this morning. You’re late!”

Harry looked at the clock. “It’s 7:00 in the morning!”

“So?”

He sighed. “Fine,” Harry was still at his desk, and he looked down at himself. He was shirtless with red and gold pajama bottoms. “Let me get dressed,” His glasses were crooked, and he straightened them.

“Hurry up,” Hermione shut the door behind her as she left.

Five minutes later, Harry was in the Gryffindor common room wearing his Hogwarts uniform. “Do we have time for breakfast?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand. “Maybe if you were up earlier. Come on, the library waits for no one!”

Harry followed her out the door. “Doesn’t the library wait for everyone, though? Isn’t that the point?”

Hermione let out a small laugh, probably against her will. Harry resisted the urge to smile. They walked to the library together, the halls reasonably empty. Classes started later, so most of the students were either in the Great Hall for breakfast or still asleep in their beds. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. 

The library had just opened, and Hermione made sure to be the first person inside. She immediately went to the astronomy section, scanning all the books. Harry stood by, aimlessly reading the books on the shelves. He didn’t really need to study, he was there because he knew Hermione liked having company. Harry pulled a particularly dusty book off the shelf and blew on it, the dust floating off in thick clouds.  _ Reading the Stars; A Complete Guide.  _ No wonder it hadn’t been checked out in a while, it sounded boring as shit.

Harry nearly dropped the book when the library doors opened. He had assumed they would be alone, that no one else but Hermione would be as crazy as to go to the library this early, but he was wrong. Pansy Parkinson walked through, book in hand. She was reading as she walked, and Malfoy trailed gloomily behind her, his hands in his pockets. His expression was as cool as glass, and seemed to absorb all the light in the room. His grey eyes were dull and unfeeling. Harry had a feeling that if he held his hand, it would be ice cold. He looked so different wearing his Pureblood mask.

The memory of Malfoy’s smile flashed across Harry’s mind, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. He had looked so normal, and Harry desperately wanted to see it again. He glanced back to Malfoy, who was now sitting with his feet on a table. His arms were crossed, and he looked over to Parkinson, her nose buried in a book.

Malfoy met his gaze for a moment, and his dull eyes flickered with some kind of emotion Harry couldn’t place. Then his gaze swept over him, and his expression returned to normal. Calm, cool, and collected, as if he hadn’t even seen Harry at all. Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed by this, Malfoy was acting like they didn’t know each other at all. His stomach flipped, and Harry looked away, his face warming. Malfoy was such a prat.

Hermione looked over at the Slytherins absently, and her face paled. Her skin looked more of an ashy grey. She fumbled with her book, almost dropping it. Harry grabbed her shoulder, steadying her. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh, yes of course,” Hermione looked up, giving him a weak smile. “I just remembered that i forgot something in the common room. I’ll be right back,” She left her book on the ground, and she was gone before Harry could say anything in response. Parkinson looked up from her book, and Harry could see concern flash across her eyes for just a moment.

Harry frowned. Hermione was definitely acting strange. But it was the library, of course she would be back. Besides, he had to go to the Owlery. He had a letter to send.

-

Hermione felt like she was suffocating. Like the walls were folding in on her lungs, the fragile bone structure collapsing. Seeing Malfoy acting like nothing had happened had made her nauseous. She thought she would be fine, that she would be able to handle it, but she was wrong. 

She remembered his blank expression standing to the side, simply observing the worst moment of her life. He hadn’t done anything, just sat there as she was tortured. Privately, she had been against Harry speaking at Malfoy’s trial, but Harry had insisted, saying that it was the right thing to do. She hadn’t argued. Harry was passionate about it, and he didn’t seem to care about things as much as he used to. 

Hermione wasn’t quite sure where she was going, she just knew she had to get away. She eventually found herself outside the prefect’s bathroom, looking around before slipping inside. The baths were peaceful, and quiet, and she felt like she could breathe again. It was embarrassing, honestly, to be so disturbed by the mere presence of Malfoy. Hermione knew she was acting irrational, and she knew that Malfoy couldn’t do anything to her, but a small part of her still told her to run. She blinked hard, trying not to let tears fall from her eyes. Hermione grabbed her arm, where the word  _ ‘Mudblood’ _ was carved into her skin. 

There was a knock at the door, and someone was coming in. “Granger?”

Hermione looked up. Pansy Parkinson had opened the door. Hermione rubbed at her eyes. “How did you get in here?” She tried to look annoyed. “Prefects only.”

Parkinson gave her a crooked smile. “I used to be a prefect, remember? They never change the damn passwords.” She sat on the edge of the bath.

“Get out,” Hermione attempted to wipe her tears away.

“I, uh, I saw you leave the library and you seemed upset,” Parkinson shifted uncomfortably. “Potter didn’t follow you because he’s kind of an idiot and oblivious, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t leaving to hex anyone. She looked down and Merlin- was she nervous?

Hermione wasn’t fooled by Parkinson’s display. “It’s nothing,” She wasn’t going to talk about her problems with  _ Parkinson  _ of all people.

“Not to be rude, but sitting on the bathroom floor crying doesn’t usually classify as ‘nothing.’” Parkinson twisted the ring around on her finger as she spoke.

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione shrugged. “I just got overwhelmed, that’s all. It’s not a big deal,” A piece of dark hair had fallen into her face, and she moved it away. “I’m good now,”

Parkinson frowned. “If it bothers you, it’s kind of a big deal,” Her nails were black, decorated with little green snakes. It was rather impressive. “When I get stressed I usually take a walk through the greenhouse. We’re not  _ technically  _ allowed to be there without Sprout, but she doesn’t seem to mind,” She stood up and dusted off her skirt. “Do you want to go?”

Hermione blinked slowly, tilting her head. Was she willingly going to spend time with Parkinson? “Why are you being nice? It seems rather unusual for you.”

“The war’s over, isn’t it?” Parkinson shrugged. “You’ve never done anything to me. Although if you want to give me your notes for Astronomy, I wouldn’t mind.”

“My notes?”

Parkinson broke into a grin. “Relax, I’m messing with you. Come on, let’s go,” Her eyes darkened for a moment, and then her smile was back. “I’m warning you, it’s probably going to be awkward.”

Hermione studied her. She looked sincere, and Hermione wanted to say yes. She had never had an actual conversation with her before, and Parkinson didn’t seem nearly as stuck up as Malfoy did. She supposed she would find out if that was true on their walk. “Alright,” She stood up and followed Parkinson out of the bathroom. “I think I can handle a little awkwardness.”

“We might miss class.”

“I’ve gone to almost every class since first year, I’ll just say I was sick.”

“Damn, Granger,” Parkinson looked amused. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” Her eyes were bright, and when Hermione looked at her, she seemed happy. The greenhouse could be fun.

-

_ Dearest Ministry,  _

_ I had the strangest interaction today. I met Granger in the bathroom. Granted, I followed her to said bathroom, but it was still strange. Even stranger, she agreed to go on a walk with me. How far I’ve come, right? I didn’t expect her to say yes. It was nice, I showed her the names of some plants. It was pleasantly awkward. I hope you appreciate me submitting this right before the deadline. I even told the owl to drop it off right before midnight.  _

_ I’ll let you know if I start talking to any Death Eaters, or if I suddenly decide to wipe out every muggle in the UK. _

_ Respectfully, _

_ Pansy Parkinson _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a new perspective guys!! I have my learner's permit test tomorrow, wish me luck heh.

**Author's Note:**

> Updated weekly! (Mostly)
> 
> Please do not repost my work or claim it as your own.


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